‘This water stinks,’ said Callum. ‘I think I’d rather be pulverised by the squadrones than drown in a sewer.’
Bo hooked one arm around Callum’s shoulder and drew him close. ‘Be very still and listen.’
They stood side by side, concentrating, alive to the smallest movement of the black air. At first, all that was audible was the sound of dripping water. Then she heard it again. Something was slapping against the surface of the floodwater.
‘It’s coming this way,’ said Bo.
She turned off the lights in Mr Pinkwhistle and the darkness pressed in around them. A moment later, she could sense something nearby. Something big – a boat or canoe.
‘Coo-eee?’ came a voice, not much more than a whisper but soft and shrill.
Bo held her breath.
‘You Fester or Foe?’ came the whisper again. ‘You be Fester, you be safe,’ it said in a wheedling tone. It was not until the sound of the slapping oars faded into the distance that Bo felt she could breathe again.
‘Maybe they could have helped us,’ said Bo, though even as she spoke she doubted that anyone in Vulture’s Gate could help them. Not even Callum’s fathers.
‘C’mon,’ said Callum, ‘we’re going above ground. There’s nowhere safe down here and my feet are getting soggy. Besides, it creeps me out, this dark.’
Bo grabbed his arm and held him back. She flicked open Mr Pinkwhistle’s chest.
‘Look,’ she said, pulling him over to stare at the tiny screen. ‘See this green light? That’s muons. It means there are spaces down here.’
‘Yeah,’ grumbled Callum. ‘Spaces full of water. We can’t go further.’
Bo ignored him. She peered closely at the grid on Mr Pinkwhistle’s screen.
‘Off to the right, there’s some big, open place, like a cave. There’s a little narrow tunnel that leads into it – a pathway we can follow. It might be a good place to hide for the night.’
‘I hate the dark,’ said Callum.
‘It’s comforting. It feels like the burrow,’ said Bo.
Before Callum could stop her, she started wading through the water with Mr Pinkwhistle held high above her head, feeling her way along the slimy wall, looking for the narrow path that the roboraptor’s sensors had displayed.
From above, they could still hear the wail of sirens out on the street. And faintly, an echo bouncing across the dark water, came the eerie voices calling ‘Coo-ee’. They were so deep into the tunnel now that all that was visible was the ember glow of Mr Pinkwhistle’s eyes. Small pinpricks of red light glanced off every surface.
The water grew deeper until it was washing around their chests. The air was fetid and it felt as if there was little oxygen left in it. Bo tried not to breathe too deeply. Then she felt Callum tugging at her belt. ‘Let’s turn back, Bo. This feels wrong.’
‘Listen,’ she said. From some way ahead of them, they could hear the sound of falling water.
‘So?’
‘So it means there’s a cavern ahead. We’ll be safe there. I know we will. My ’twitian tells me.’
‘Bo,’ he said, the single word an admonition. She was glad she couldn’t see him rolling his eyes in the gloomy darkness.
‘Just a little further,’ she said. ‘Trust me.’
The water grew shallower and began to move faster, rushing around their knees so that they had trouble keeping their balance. And then they were at the lip of the waterfall, looking into a cavern.
‘See,’ said Bo. They knelt at the entrance and stared in amazement. A black pool lay twenty metres beneath them, lit from above by a soft greenish light. The air smelt different here, sharp and salty, and down by the water there was a metal dock.
‘This place is humungous,’ said Callum, peering into the gloom.
Bo leant into the cavern, checking for a way down. Beneath them, the wall was layered with rickety, tiered platforms. Mr Pinkwhistle let out a husky growl as Bo slipped over the edge of the tunnel and onto a platform two metres beneath them. It shuddered as she landed.
‘C’mon,’ she called. ‘It’s safe.’
The platform was a metre wide and was edged with a rusty metal railing. Bo watched as Callum shut his eyes and jumped, landing sure-footed as a cat on the narrow shelf.
‘You’re crazy,’ she said, as she steadied him with one hand.
‘Me?’
‘Yes. You. Why did you shut your eyes? You couldn’t see where you were going to land.’
Callum grinned. ‘You’ve got your ’twitian. I’ve got my instinct. I didn’t spend all that time being tossed around like a beanbag for nothing. Sometimes it’s best to let your body take you. Besides, I figured you’d catch me if I missed.’
Bo shook her head but she couldn’t help smiling. How could she have imagined he would abandon her? They edged their way along the platform. The tiers followed a zigzag pattern around the walls. Each time they jumped from a platform to the one beneath, Bo felt her head spin. By the time they were halfway down the walls, she was giddy and breathless.
‘Can we stop for a rest?’ she said, sitting down on the platform and putting one hand to her forehead.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Callum, kneeling down beside her and gazing into her face.
‘Not really. But you look queer too,’ she said.
‘My legs feel itchy,’ he said. He rolled up the leg of his trousers and screamed. Black, slimy slugs clung to every inch of his skin. He jumped to his feet and tore off his shirt.
‘My back, my back, they’re on my back too!’ His shouts reverberated around the cavern.
Bo slapped at the black slugs, trying to knock them away, but they clung fast.
‘No,’ screamed Callum. ‘Don’t pull them out. They poison you if you rip them off.’
‘What are they?’
‘Leeches,’ said Callum faintly.
Bo lifted her shirt and looked down at her belly. She was covered in them too. She let out a soft whistle of astonishment and Mr Pinkwhistle tipped his head to one side, listening with curiosity.
As Bo and Callum stood staring at the hundreds of leeches covering their bodies, the black pond beneath them began to bubble and froth. A battered black-and-grey machine rose up out of the depths and clanked against the side of the dock. Before Callum and Bo could decide what it was, a horde of boys emerged from a hatch on top of the machine. They scurried up the platforms, leaping across the railings like a tribe of monkeys. In an instant, they surrounded Bo and Callum.
‘Festers,’ hissed Callum.
19
THE FESTERS
Two small, skinny boys swung onto the platform behind them and blocked any chance Bo and Callum had of retreating into the tunnel. Others crowded around, studying them closely. One boy, tall and powerfully built, pushed his way to the front of the pack. He wore a tight-fitting beanie, from beneath which bright white tufts of hair stuck out. He leaned in close to Bo and grabbed her by the front of her shirt. From under her arm, Mr Pinkwhistle growled, then he clamped his jaws around the boy’s wrist and held it fast.
‘No, Mr Pinkwhistle,’ said Bo, slipping a finger into the roboraptor’s jaw and triggering the release.
‘Mr Pinkwhistle?’ The boy held his bruised wrist and his eyes grew narrow. ‘I want him. He’s better than a dog.’
‘You can’t have him. He’s mine.’
‘Everything down here is mine.’
‘Not us and not Mr Pinkwhistle,’ said Bo firmly.
‘What are you doing in our dock?’ said the boy. ‘You escape from somewhere?’
‘We were being chased. This seemed safe.’
‘Safe for us, not for you,’ said the boy. His gang laughed and one of them shoved Callum, trying to throw him off balance.
Callum stood as straight as he could, wishing he could make himself taller. ‘You don’t own this place,’ he said. ‘You’re not the boss of the world.’
‘I’m the boss of this world,’ said the boy.
‘L
et’s push ’em off. Let’s ’bort ’em,’ said the small boy who had shoved Callum.
‘Shut up, Flakie,’ said the boss.
‘Who are you?’ asked Bo.
‘I’m Roc,’ he said. ‘And these are my Diseases.’ He gestured to the crowd of boys.
‘You mean you’re all Festers,’ muttered Callum.
‘What?’ said Bo, looking from Roc to Callum.
‘Festers,’ said Callum. ‘These guys are Festers. They feed off garbage and they eat dead people.’
‘We do not,’ said Flakie, making as if to shove Callum again. Roc pulled him back then spoke directly to Bo. ‘That’s a stupid story that men tell their children to make us sound scary. We’re the new bogey-boys.’
‘You don’t look very scary,’ said Bo.
‘I am scary,’ said Roc.
‘Not to me,’ said Bo.
Roc looked Bo up and down appraisingly. ‘You’re either brave or reckless or maybe stupid. It won’t take me long to figure out which.’
‘We won’t be here long enough for that. We’ll go back up through the tunnels soon. When it’s dark.’
‘It’s not safe up there after dark. You’re better off down here.’
‘Not with these things feeding on us.’ Bo lifted up her shirt and showed her belly where the leeches were growing plump with blood.
Roc smiled.
‘Flakie and Blister will take them off you. They’re old hands at it,’ said Roc. ‘You wait here with them. The Diseases and I have work to do. You and me, we’ll talk more when I’ve finished my business.’
Before they could answer, Roc and his tribe had swarmed past them, up the rails to the tunnel. Flakie and Blister stayed behind.
‘Here, Roc says we have to clean youse up,’ said Blister.
‘Don’t touch me,’ said Callum, pushing their clawing hands away from him. ‘We can’t stay here, Bo. We need to find my dads.’
‘First, we need to get rid of these leeches,’ she said. She turned to the two Festers. ‘Show me how you do it. Show me how you get these things off.’
‘You go for the little suckers,’ said Flakie. ‘If you try and rip ’em off, they spit garbage and leave their tails inside you. Then you get all scabby and sick, like.’
‘I remember that,’ said Callum. ‘I had one on my leg when I was a kid.’
‘One? That all? I’ve been flicking these off boys for years,’ said Blister. ‘Millions of ’em.’
Blister bent forward and placed a sharp, dirty fingernail on Bo’s belly beside one of the leeches. When the small sucker was loosened, he flicked at its ripe body with his other hand while he used his fingernail to detach the second sucker. Then with one swift movement he swept it over the edge of the platform.
‘Now, that was just to show you how youse do it. Take your duds off and I’ll clear the rest of them.’
Moving slowly, Bo took off her shirt and turned around so Blister could see the leeches clustered on her lower back. ‘You do the ones I can’t reach. I’ll do my front,’ she said.
Sighing, Callum followed suit, stripping off his shirt so Flakie could clear his torso. The boys worked quickly, deftly, until Bo and Callum’s chests ran with little trails of blood from where the leeches had been removed.
‘They spit this stuff in you, makes your blood go thin. It’s not bad stuff. Not like poison or garbage. Long as you take ’em off proper, they won’t make you sick. You won’t bleed long neither. We get them all out clean and you’ll heal up real quick. You better take your trews off,’ said Blister matter-of-factly.
Callum looked across at Bo, panic-struck. Bo nodded to reassure him. There would be a lot of uncomfortable questions if she took off her trousers.
‘I’ve figured it out now,’ she told Blister. ‘I can take the rest of them off myself. Callum has more of them. Go on, Callum. Take your trousers off. Blister can help Flakie and you’ll be cleaned up faster.’
Blister shrugged and turned to watch Callum remove his trousers. While the two Festers cleared the last of the leeches from Callum’s body, Bo pulled out the waist of her pants and checked her crotch.
When they had finished, Flakie and Blister led Bo and Callum down to where the battered submarine was moored in the dock beneath. They stood by the water’s edge, throwing pebbles into the pool, waiting for the return of Roc and the rest of the gang.
‘How far have you come in this machine?’ asked Bo, admiring the sub.
‘North Shore. We take the harbour tunnel. No mines down there like there is in the open water, so we can scoot across real fast. No one else is game to use it. Bits of it collapse all the time. But nothing scares Roc.’
‘ ’Cause he’s too stupid to be frightened,’ muttered Callum.
‘What?’ said Blister, shoving Callum roughly.
Bo stepped between them. ‘He does sound brave. What did Roc mean when he said you all had a job to do?’
‘Raids.’
As Blister spoke, from far away they heard a distant booming.
‘That’s them,’ said Flakie. ‘They just blew up today’s target.’ ‘Blew it up?’
‘Yeah,’ said Blister, picking at a scab on his knee. ‘That’s what we do. We blow up the olds. Make it better for kids and all.’
‘You what?’ said Callum.
‘Blow up the olds. All the mobs that hurt us kids. You know, if they catch you, they lock you up in the factories. That’s where the boys get put when they’re caught. Or they make you slaves and lackeys. So we blow them up.’
‘But what about the boys in the factories?’
‘We make sure they can run free. If they make it to the North Shore, Roc lets them join us. And sometimes he still rescues the littlies too. Fishes them out of dumpsters. That’s where me and Flakie came from. That’s how Roc started. He started fishing for the tiddlers and then, as we got bigger, he started making us his gang and doing the raids.’
‘They’re on a big job today. Gonna blow up the Nekhbet Tower. Roc reckons that will really do the oldies’ heads in.’ Blister giggled and Flakie joined in.
‘Not the Tower!’ cried Callum.
‘What’s wrong with you? You on their side?’ said Blister, his eyes narrowing.
Bo put her arm around Callum. ‘When will Roc be back?’
‘Not for a while,’ said Flakie. ‘Last time they blew the gates, this time they’re going for the forecourt. Next time they’ll bring the whole wasps’ nest down.’
Bo turned to Callum, registering his rising panic. ‘It will be all right. Your dads aren’t there, are they? And the Festers are only blowing up the forecourt. They’ll be safe.’
‘Dads? Disgusting!’ said Flakie. ‘He must be one of them fancypants boys. You one of them too?’ He glared at Bo accusingly.
‘No. Not me,’ said Bo. ‘And not Callum either.’ She looked warningly at him, hoping he’d understand her meaning and keep his mouth shut.
‘Tell us more about Roc,’ she said.
‘I told you. He finds us and he leads us. He’s our captain.’
‘Like Peter Pan?’ said Bo.
‘What mob does he lead? I never heard of no Pan,’ said Blister.
‘It’s a good story. Do you want me to tell it to you?’
‘Tell us what?’
‘A story,’ said Bo, settling down on the edge of the dock with her feet dangling over the water. She indicated for the boys to sit next to her. ‘Stories make the time pass quickly.’
Blister and Flakie sat very still, puzzled, as Bo began to speak. Callum shuffled a little way along the dock, as far away from the Festers as he could be and still remain within earshot.
When Bo reached the part where Peter Pan convinced the children they could fly, Flakie interrupted her. ‘You met this Peter Pan dude yourself? You been to this Never Land?’ he asked. ‘I reckon Roc would like to know about this.’
‘No,’ said Bo. ‘It’s not a real place and Peter Pan isn’t a real person.’
‘So it’s a
ll a lie. A big fib, eh?’
‘No, it’s a story. About how things might be.’
The Festers nodded solemnly and Bo went back to telling them about the Lost Boys, their captain who could fly, and their home in Never Land.
20
ROC’S DISEASES
It was hot and stuffy inside the sub. Although there were windows along the side and front, darkness pressed in around them. Bo and Callum were jammed into a corner where Roc could keep an eye on them.
‘Take-off,’ said Roc and the sub plunged downwards with a sickening surge. He turned to Bo and Callum. ‘We’ll be in the harbour tunnel soon. Then home in no time.’
The tiny light at the front of the sub barely lit the way through the tunnel. Callum cupped his hands together and whispered into Bo’s ear, ‘I don’t like this plan. We shouldn’t be doing this. Festers give me the creeps. And that Roc is bad news.’
Bo watched Roc as he leant over the controls and gave instructions to Blister. He looked like a man. His arm muscles were bigger than any of the others, and his face, though still boyish, had a hard, adult cast to its features. Though his skin was a golden tan, every hair on his body was blond. Even his eyebrows were white-blond. The other Festers were mostly dark and scruffy-looking but there was something sleek and disturbing about Roc.
A pinprick of light appeared in the soupy harbour waters. The sub lurched to one side and passed through a hole in the tunnel. They surfaced near the end of a stone pier that jutted out into a cove from a mass of broken rock. Blister and Flakie opened the hatch at the top of the submarine and the boys scrambled up into the daylight. Bo drew in long, warm breaths of the outside air with relief. It smelt sharp with the tang of eucalyptus.
The boys pulled branches over the edge of the pier and covered the moored sub so that from a distance it merged with the ragged landscape.
While the other boys climbed a narrow track into the bush, Roc held Bo back. They stood on the end of the pier, Mr Pinkwhistle between them. Roc squatted down beside him.
‘Where did you get this? I used to have a toy that looked like one of these but it stopped working and no one knew how to fix it.’
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